Somewhere on our way to Ottawa, on an uncrowded bus, the inner bitch that is always just underneath my prickly sweet surface, was unleashed, unbeknown to all of the poor individuals who would feel her wrath for the rest of the weekend. I felt an almost imperceptible change come over me and decided to go with it.
I believe that all of us have an inner bitch - for some, like my friends Steph and Paul, it is easier for the bitch to remain present in their daily lives. These individuals hold people at bay and wait for a reason to trust others, so their bitches are constantly there. While for others, like me, this interior bitch always remains hidden since I interact with individuals with my heart wide open and I trust them from the very beginning. Both manners of interaction can be detrimental: the first does not always allow you to become close to others, but you do protect yourself, while the other allows you to become close to others very quickly, but you can get very hurt time and time again. Thus, I decided to experiment this weekend: instead of suffocating the words that usually keep bubbling to the surface, but that I unceremoniously pop, I let them loose. Made snide comments all of the time to my audience of one and these were laughed at and enjoyed. And I felt liberated, free as a bird and unusually happy.
The bitch was ever more present on Sunday after having watched a silly chick flick and being thrown into a strange head space as a result. Steph and I decided to sit outside for a while before meeting our friend Caro for a much needed drink. So, there we were, sitting by ourselves, smoking, talking and singing our hearts out to Adele, Florence and the Machine and Coldplay, minding our own business, not wanting anyone to meddle in ours and sitting on the steps leading to the Timmy's at Concordia. A slight rain creating sparkling beads on the strands of both of our hair, dampening our spirits further while wetting our feet. A man approached us, slurring his words while attempting to compliment me and normally, I would smile patiently and listen to whatever he would have had to say, but not that night. I cut him off, telling him that tonight it was just between girls - and when he tried again, I told him that I was a lesbian and that I was not interested, hoping that that would turn him away. And yet no, he insisted - so, I got mean, told him, "Ecoute monsieur, nous ne sommes vraiment pas interessees, donc bonne soiree" with a forced and yet purposeful smile. When he began to talk again, I cut him off with another more determined "Bonne soiree monsieur" and then watched as he walked away, defeated. I did not want to be bothered by anyone, much less a drunken stranger and here I was letting him know that.
Thought I would have felt better once he was gone, but, truth be told, I felt worse and guilty. Perhaps this man was just a lonely soul who needed to talk to someone and here I was denying him that comfort, however brief it might have been. You see the trouble with unleashing your inner bitch is that you end up denying other people their humanity. Everyone, as a good friend of mine has realized, wants two things: to belong and to contribute. So, who am I to deny anyone their wish to belong or to be comforted?
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